Twist of Fate
by Jinxed4Ever
Summary: Erik, a successful architect and musician meets a strange girl. Not only is she a hothead but she covers the right side of her face. Erik is determined to save this girl from a life of thieviery and drugs, but can he do it without falling in love?....EC
1. Chapter 1

**This is an idea I can't seem to get out of my head until I put it down on the computer. I uploaded it to this site to see what you think of it. This is a modern fice and the roles will be reversed. What do I mean? Read and find out!

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The man walked down the dark lonely street, hands in his pockets. He turned down one street, glancing behind him at the swirling blue lights, the siren filling up the road. He shook his head, the police always had something to do, especially at this time of night. 

The sirens were getting louder now, which meant the assailant they were chasing had to be near.

He quickened his pace. He had been so stupid, why didn't he listen to his friend and let him drive him home?

New York, in his opinion, was the worst town. It was filthy and restless constantly bustling with people trying to get about living. They had family and friends and jobs. It was, after all, the reason he was there. He had been offered a job to help design and oversee a new house he had to build in upstate New York.

He didn't find the need to buy a house in the suburbs and decided instead to rent an apartment in the city. Which was where he was trying to get to now. He was getting back from a bar where his friend and him shared a couple of drinks, celebrating his new job offer and move.

He could hear the sirens even louder this time and the small footsteps as someone behind him ran.

He turned and saw a small shadow running towards him. It wasn't more of a shadow than that of a ghost. They way it almost hovered over the floor, like it wasn't running, he could hardly hear her footsteps. Like a phantom.

He turned sharply and quickened his pace again.

He felt stupid, why should he fear the phantom? He was after all a full grown man, capable of handling whatever came his way.

He realized why he was scared. Maybe it was the person that the police were looking for. Maybe he had a gun or knife or…

He had no time to think because in the next moment, he felt small hands take hold of his jacket and pull him into an alley. He knew it was the Phantom. The small figure pulled him against it and pressed him against the wall.

It was as if it were hiding.

He knew from what the moment the sirens passed the mouth of the alley. So this _was_ the person they were chasing. As he almost turned to reveal himself to the police so they could capture the assailant, he heard something that made him freeze.

"Please don't."

He looked down at the figure in front of him. Al though he couldn't see her face, he knew it was a girl. That would explain why her hands were so small and why the phantom seemed so petite.

He grabbed her upper arms, trying to look at her face but she averted his gaze. She looked behind him and calmed when they couldn't hear the sirens anymore.

She visibly relaxed and placed her head on his chest, panting. It was obvious she had been running for a long time. "Thank you," she breathed. "I've been trying to get away."

His features softened at the hoodlum before him when she spoke. She seemed so small to him, like a frightened little mouse. She sounded scared and tired but her voice was pure and beautiful.

"Excuse, miss" he finally spoke. "But why are you running away?"

She sighed and pushed him away gently. "Wrong place at the wrong time." She stepped away from him and looked down the street they had just come back from.

By the looks of her, it seemed the exact opposite. She wore baggy clothing, including a hoody which she kept tight over her head. She kept a hand in one of the pockets of the black sweater as if she were holding on to something.

He watched her as she leaned against a wall for support, still out of breath. She saw him staring at her. "Sorry about your shirt."

"My shirt?" he asked looking down at it but seeing nothing in the darkness.

She nodded and showed him her right hand. "I got blood on it."

He took her hand and examined it. He could see some strange sticky liquid on it and glass glisten as the moonlight hit it. It was as if she had punched glass.

She took her hand back forcefully.

He took a handkerchief out of his pocket and tried to dry the blood. "Here, let me help."

All innocence that he had seen before drained as she snapped at him. "I don't _need_ your help!"

He handed her the handkerchief. "At least dry yourself off a bit."

She scoffed at him. "I don't need your hospitality either."

He sighed. "Let me take you to the hospital-"

"No," she told him, angry. "No hospital."

"Then let me take care of that for you, we can go to my place-"

She laughed and approached him with a seducing walk. "Take me back home, will you?"

"Not like _that_," he said indignant. "I would _never-_"

She laughed again. "Your morality amuses me. Why are you trying to help me?"

He furrowed his eyebrows. "It's the humane thing to do."

"'_It's the humane thing to do',_" she mocked. "Oh, please, the moment you see my face, you'll want to take those words back. There is nothing _humane_, sir, about me."

Why was she being so cold? It seemed to start when he offered her his help. "Your face? What's wrong with it?"

She scoffed as she stepped back from him. "Where do I begin?"

When she turned to glance back at the street, he stepped forward and took off her hoody, determined to see what was so bad about it.

He was met with her left fist colliding with his jaw.

He stumbled back a couple of steps and hit the wall behind him, sinking to the floor_. For a girl, she _does_ hit hard. _

He looked up at the petite girl as she towered over him. She bent down next to him. He could see she had curly hair, it hung below her shoulders, parted to the left, letting some of it drape over the right side of her face.

She punched him again and he noticed she had brass knuckles on. No wonder it hurt.

"_Never,_" she spat, "take off my hoody."

He looked at her, her face spinning around as his head collided once again with the hard wall behind him.

She fumbled through his pockets and took out his wallet.

He groaned at his weak state, tasting the copper liquid in his mouth.

Looking through the small leather wallet, she smiled. "Thank you, _Erik_, for your hospitality." She glanced at him and her eyes fell on his lips. She bent down and kissed him softly, chaste, innocent-like contrasting the mood she was exhibiting moments before.

She pushed her left cheek against his own. "Thank you, angel, for hiding me."

Then she disappeared into the darkness, leaving Erik coughing on the dirty alley floor. He grumbled and groaned, coughing once again.

By being friendly to someone, he managed to get mugged and beaten. By a _girl_, no less. A _teenager_, he was sure that she couldn't be older than twenty. Something told him that he wasn't going hear the end of this one, especially not by Nadir.

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**Let me know if my little pet project is worth pursuing. Not to worry, A Memory's Phantom is still my top priority right now. If this story sucks, let me know, if not then, that's cool too. All right, tootles,  
Jinx**


	2. Chapter 2

**I know this chapter is short but I put it in anyways. Some of you liked it so I contined. Here is chapter two.

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She made her way up the stairs two at a time. The wood underneath her creaked and groaned with its age. 

The stale smell of urine and alcohol filled the hallway. Some days she didn't know why she stayed there.

_Because no one will take you in, that's why._

She groaned as she passed a couple in the hallway making out against a wall. She looked at them disgusted and put her fingers in the guy's hair, pulling it as hard as she could.

The guy cried out as she pushed him against the opposite wall. She looked at the girl before her, her eyes glazed over, her lips swollen. "Meg, you need to get a room."

The dirty blond haired girl just looked at her in disbelief. "I can't believe you! Leave him alone!"

She rolled her eyes. "You keep these things private. You do know what private is, right?"

Meg pushed her hand away but she only let the man go because she wanted to. Meg was no match for her; she drugged herself up so many times that she had no strength at all.

"Mind your own business," Meg hissed at her.

She sighed. "Fine, but I swear Meg if I have to pick you up halfway across town again, you'll be sorry."

Meg rolled her chocolate brown eyes. "If I wanted a mother I wouldn't have run away." Meg grabbed the guy's sleeve and pulled him away, obviously both intoxicated by the way the staggered about.

Rolling her eyes, she went down the hallway to her own room. She could hear a baby crying through the paper-thin walls as she placed her keys in her many locks.

Once she finished all five locks, she went inside. Just when she was about to close the door, a foot stopped it. She looked up at the owner of the boot and sighed. "What the hell do you want now?"

"What every guy wants," he stated simply. "A date out to dinner go to the movies, if we happen upon a room that night, who am I to resist?"

She pushed on the door, trying to shut it. "Go screw yourself. Better yet, Sorelli just had her kid, why don't you stick another one in there?"

"Sorelli's a ho," he said with obvious disgust. "I just want you, Jessica."

"How about I break your nose, Raoul, how about that one?"

He laughed. "I've always had an eye for the feisty ones."

"Bullshit," she told him. "You just want my money. I already told you I spent it all."

He pushed on the door, opening an inch more. "Damn it, Jessica! Let me in!"

She opened the door wide and stepped in front of him. She took her left fist connected it with his nose. She used her steel toe boots to kick him out to the hallway. He landed right on his bottom with a loud thump. "Try to come here again, Raoul and I _swear_ I will scar that perfect face of yours!"

She slammed the door and placed all the locks in place. Sighing against the door, she took the hood off her head, finally home.

She went to the bathroom and started the shower as she undressed. Taking tweezers with her to the bathroom, she started taking out the broken pieces of glass in her broken skin. She winced at the pain but steeled herself against it. She had taught herself not to feel pain.

She cursed herself for slipping. She had been so stupid. She had seen a couple walking by all hugs and kisses. She had been so jealous knowing that she would never have that. Her face wouldn't let her.

With all the glass out, she started to rinse the blood and dirt free. Sighing, she looked up at the cloth covering the mirror.

That was what had sent her off the deep end earlier, seeing her reflection. She hated that monster looking back at her. She pulled her hair back with her scrunchie finally letting her hair out of her face.

After taking a cold shower, she placed gauze over her right hand then dressed. Retreating to the living room that served as her bedroom. As she sat against the uncomfortable couch, she reached over at her sweater she had on earlier.

Searching the pockets, she placed the brass knuckles under the couch, and the knife under the cushion she was sitting on. Her fingers wrapped around the cold leather wallet and pulled it out.

She looked inside and found one hundred and twenty-two dollars.

Her eyes widened. Didn't he know not to walk around with this kind of money? Just as she was about to take it, she stopped. It was obvious he wasn't going to miss the money and that she needed it more than he did but something stopped her.

_He cared for me_. He did, al though it pissed her off when people tried to help, she was grateful for him. He knew she was eluding the police yet he tried to help her. It was as if he didn't care that she was a criminal, he genuinely tried to help her, just like Ann….

She shook her head ridding herself of the thoughts. All people that tried to help her regretted it the moment they saw her face. She placed her hand on the right side of her face. She could feel the bumpy skin, the scar that ran down her face.

She had been denied so much because of the way she looked. A normal life, a normal childhood, the love of a mother, the feel of a man's flesh….

She kicked the coffee table in front of her in anger, flipping it over with a crash of glass. "Damn it!"

She hated feeling so defenseless. Feeling defenseless led her to feeling weak, something that she wouldn't let herself feel again. She sighed as she lay down on the couch and touched her lips.

That man, that Erik had given her the only intimate contact she had in years. Granted, she was the one that had kissed _him_ when he was on the ground, after she had beaten him up but nevertheless he hadn't pulled away.

Why, all of a sudden, did she feel so guilty?

She cursed for a second time in less than five minutes.

"Because he helped me," she said softly to herself. She laughed quietly, "At least he _tried_."

No doubt had it been another person, they would have turned her in.

She reached over to the wallet and looked at the picture in it, running her fingers over the plastic as if she could touch his face. He was so perfect, so handsome, he most obviously had to have a girlfriend.

She had to see him again. She would give him his wallet back try to make amends. To thank him for a least _trying_ to help. Sighing against the cushion and brought the blanket to her chin, throwing the wallet on the floor.

Somewhere in her mind a long forgotten memory surfaced. Her social worker when she was eight, Winnie. _Why don't you let people help you, Christine?_

She sighed against her hands. Why did the past always torment her? Christine had died the day Jessica was born. She didn't like people to know her true name, it was as if it held power over her.

Christine had nightmares like every other night.

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**Since i have nothing to say right now, let me, again, know what you think. If ti sucks, let me know, if it's good, let me know also. I upped rating because i very much doubt I'll get away with a T rating this time. bye!**


	3. Chapter 3

**I know that I haven't update in a while, but I have been busy and my top priority right now is school and my other phic, A Memory's Phantom. I will update this story as inspiration comes. For those of you who are confused, Erik is our Erik but he is not deformed, he is rich and eligible (wink, wink, just kidding) and the little 'Phantom' is the dark and mysterious figure like Erik is in the original. In other words, the roles are reversed a bit. Christine is the deformed one, shun from society because of the way she looks, Erik is the rich successful one. The girl's name is Christine, the reason she give the name Jessica to people is because she doesn't like for people to know her real name because she feels as if they hold some kind of power over her. And I guess that's it...tootles

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Erik carried some of lumber to the second story of the house where most of the construction was taking place. As soon as he put it down, he went to the desk nearby looking over the plans. At least things were going ahead of schedule. Just as he looked over the plans for the first floor, a familiar voice distracted him.

"Erik," Nadir patted his back in greeting. "How are things coming?"

"Great," Erik said as he laid out the plans. "I think Giovanni will like the way things are working out."

"With as much as they're paying you, you can afford to slack off."

Erik shook his head. "It would ruin my reputation."

Nadir shook his head. "You and that reputation…."

Erik smiled and took out a ruler to make some measurements on the paper. As he carefully wrote down the numbers, he heard Nadir gasp.

As some sawing and hammering continued, Nadir had to shout to him to be heard. "What the hell happened to your face?"

Erik rolled his eyes. He had woken up that morning with a welt on his face and a cut on his lip. It was what his little phantom had done to him. He was a fast healer and he was glad that it didn't permanently scar him or anything.

"Don't tell me you got mugged last night," Nadir said with obvious concern.

Erik nodded. "I was up all night canceling my credit cards and reporting it missing."

"Damn," Nadir said examining his face. "How many guys did it take?"

Erik rolled his eyes and lied through his teeth. He knew that if he found out it was a girl, he would never hear the end of it. "One, but he was huge. I have to admit, I though it was too late by the time that I cancelled them but they told me no money had been withdrawn."

"Consider yourself lucky," Nadir said looking over his shoulder.

As soon as Erik went back to his work, he heard Nadir growl. "Speaking of luck…."

Erik turned and smiled. The curly black haired woman made his way to him with a swing of her hips. She had evergreen eyes and was always dressed in Gucci or Armani. Her father, Giovanni was one of the richest men Erik had ever met, he was the only one that paid him double.

To say she was spoiled would be an understatement. Giovanni had commented that she had been in Cancun and was returning that day. She had her Gucci sunglasses on her head, keeping her hair at bay. Her skin was now deeply tanned. She received a few catcalls from the construction workers but ignored them all, keeping her eyes set on Erik.

"All right, men," Erik shouted at them. "Back to work. Show some respect for your employer!"

She smiled at him and gave him a kiss on each cheek as was her Italian custom. "Erik."

"Luciana," Erik greeted. "You look lovely."

She showed him her pearly whites. "Thank you, Erik."

Erik turned back to his work. "What can I do for you, Luciana?"

"My father is throwing me a birthday party. A little soiree, if you will. In honor of my twenty-fifth birthday."

Erik smiled and continued drawing some lines on the blueprints. "When is your birthday?"

"Next month, it's a formal affair." She reached into her pocket and gave him the invitation. "Here."

Erik took the invitation after he put the pencil down. "Thank you."

"You can bring someone if you like," Luciana said with a gleam in her eyes. "That is, if you want to go."

Erik smiled. "I shall be there."

Luciana visibly brightened. "I'll expect you to be there." Then she left with the enticing walk, attracting all the attention from the men around her. Nadir approached him and continued looking at Luciana with a tilted head until she was out of sight.

"Hot," Nadir said turning to his friend. "Erik, you are one lucky man."

"Ah, yes," Erik said with a smile. "I suppose I am."

Nadir laughed and watched Erik as he put his plans away, the day was almost ending. "You are a famous and rich architect. You conduct masterpieces which you give the Metropolitan Opera House as charity work. You're one of the most eligible bachelors in this damn city and you just caught the eye of an Italian goddess, where do I find such luck?"

"I'm all that and yet I got beat up by a girl," he mumbled.

Erik bit his tongue as soon as he heard Nadir laughing. "Wait, a girl? _A girl!"_

Erik sighed and told Nadir the story on his way to his SUV.

By the time Erik arrived at his apartment, it was already night time. He left his car with the valet and made his way through the rotating gold doors after he was greeted by the man in the front. With the plans in his special carrier over his shoulder and his briefcase under his other arm, he made his way across the gold lobby.

The lobby was gold and had many lush couches, it was obvious that the people that lived there were rich. Erik worked hard for his way of life, he lived comfortably, making more than was considered normal in his work.

There was something definitely wrong in the lobby and he noticed it when he walked in.

Harold, one of the men in the lobby ran up to him, out of breath. "Sir, there's a young lady here, she wants to see you."

Erik looked at him in confusion. "A young lady?"

He nodded and led the way to another part of the lobby where there were sofas with an elegant chandelier on the ceiling. The room was touched burgundy or gold, the only dark colored in the room was the figure sitting on the posh couch.

Her boots were propped up on the end table, her ankles crossed, laid back and relaxed. Her petite form was wrapped in layers of black, including the same hoody that covered her face yet again.

When she saw him, she stood and placed her hands in the pocket of her large sweater. "Hello."

Erik didn't say a word but Harold left leaving the two alone.

She stood in front of him and her hand brushed against his cheek. "I see you took care of that soon enough."

Erik fought the urge to slap her hand away and turn her into the police. There was something about her, something that attracted him. It couldn't have been her face because it was covered by her hoody, her features were still covered.

Erik took a step back from her and she put her hand to her side, sighing. "Sorry."

"For what?" Erik snapped. "For what you did yesterday? I hope you had fun spending all my money." He didn't know why he said it, because he knew she didn't in fact spend his money, but something about seeing her again, put his nerves on end. What was it about that girl that made him so nervous?

He couldn't see her expressions but he knew she was smiling. "If I would have known that you lived here, angel, I would have."

Erik ignored her nickname for him. "If _I _would have known you needed it so bad then I would have given you the money."

She took a deep breath. "I don't need your help, Erik."

He rolled his eyes. "Are you so full of yourself that you won't accept _any_ hospitality?"

"If I want help, I'll ask for it," she barked.

Erik didn't say anything.

"I suspect the police are looking for me," she told him, her voice in an innocent tone once again. "I bet they're looking for a girl that beat up a twenty-seven-year-old man."

"I didn't tell the police," Erik told her simply.

She froze. "You didn't tell them, why?"

He shrugged. In truth, he didn't know, he somehow knew that the poor girl had enough on her record to send her to jail for some time, he didn't want them to know anymore.

"I have my reasons," he told her.

She reached into her pocket and pulled something out, long and black. Realizing it wasn't a gun, he looked at her hands. It was his wallet, no wonder she knew where he lived, it was on his license.

"I'm sure the money is missing," Erik said. "Or the credit cards cut up."

The wallet was tossed at him with such force that he almost dropped his briefcase. Looking at her in the face –or at least where her face should have been- he saw some of her it, he could see she was mad.

"You know what?" She said furiously, "Screw you. The next time I have the urge to be nice to someone, I'll fight it." Then she stormed off, leaving Erik alone in the lobby.


	4. Chapter 4

**A very _short_ chapter, I know, but it is required. i felt as if I needed to update at least one of my stories. I feel so bad, I haven't updated A Memory's Phantom yet... But here is Twist of Fate, I put this chapter together in less than twenty minutes...that's why it sucks so bad. All right, bye!

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Christine made her way to the apartment in a fouler mood than she had been in days. That would be that last time she tried to do anything nice to anyone ever again.**

She continued down the dark hallway, babies cries echoing through the paper-thin walls. She passed Meg's room then stepped over a crumpling body on the floor of the hall. When she recognized the heap on the floor she let out a groan. How she hated picking up other people's mess.

She would have kept going to her room if her conscious had stopped bothering her. She knew Madame Giry would be mad if she left her daughter on the floor like that.

_Damn my loyalties,_ she thought as she started to pick up Meg from the floor by the upper arms. Meg's eyes were closed and she had dark circles under them. Her usually frail figure was even weaker than the last time Christine had seen her.

She slapped her cheeks a bit to wake her. "Come on, little Giry, wake up."

"Momma?" Meg's small voice said.

Christine sighed, she never understood why Meg ran away in the first place. Looking at her arm, she saw why. She cursed Meg's latest boyfriend, no doubt the person she got her new drugs from. She would see the welts and red scabs from the needle.

Christine supported her as she walked to Meg's room not two feet away. It was no doubt the place she had been meaning to get to before she collapsed in the hall from whatever crap she injected herself with.

She opened the unlocked door and went in with Meg, setting her on the cot she used as a bed. She took off her shoes and sighed when she looked at all the instruments she used to destroy herself on a small table. There were needles and spoons and the white substance itself spilled over the table.

Christine picked everything up and threw it away in a garbage can she had in the room. How could Meg do this to herself?

She was about to leave Meg when she heard her call for her.

Christine turned, disgusted at her state but mad just the same. "What?"

"I'm sorry, Christine," Meg said sorrow in her voice. "I know I'm disappointing you."

She would have left her in her state to wallow in guilt and pity but Meg's sobs stopped her. Christine looked at her friend –the _only_ friend she had, that was why she was the only one who knew her true name- and sighed. She sat down next to her and took her small hand. "Meg, you need to stop this."

Meg sniffled. "Yeah, I know but I _can't_."

"Those boys need to stop taking advantage of you, Meg." Christine sighed and moved the hair from her face. "You're letting them do this to you, you do know that? Especially that dick Max."

Meg nodded. "I know. I just can't stop." She sobbed once more and Christine took her in an embrace.

"Your mother misses you, Meg," she told the small girl. "She'll help you."

Meg nodded. "I miss her, too. I wanna go back."

Christine took off her hoody, the heat in the apartment stifling. "Look, I can get you help but that is only if you will let me. Would you like that?'

Meg nodded.

"But you have to lay off that shit, I mean it Meg. No more going around and getting high or shooting yourself up. You're just a pawn in Max's sick game."

Meg nodded. "I know, c-can you do something for me, Christine?"

Christine nodded.

"Sing to me, please?" Meg pleaded. "It's the only way I feel safe, please?"

Christine sighed and started to sing to her sweetly. She sang to her of new hope, the one that she had for her. She sang her the lullaby her father used to sing to her, the one of an angel.

She felt a tear roll down her marred cheek, bitter-sweet memories flooding her mind once again. How she missed her father. She wanted to see him again, why had he left her like he did? She wiped her cheeks, steeling herself.

She would not cry. No. No crying. Never. After all, she would never show her weakness.

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**Sucky chapter, i know but requiered. i am continuing this story because of Erik'sLittleLotte, who keeps telling me that this will be a promising story. So, yeah, here you are. Please leave me reviews! They are much appreciated! (i am waiting for fourty reviews in Memory so I can update) Tootles! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello everyone! I have decided to update this one even though there isn't ten reviews! oh well, okay, i have update in honor of my birthday... my birthday present to you guys... lol ... i still have to update A Memory's Phantom, i haven't exactly written the next chapter, but I have off tomorrow and in between working and reading a novel i musr read for Spanish, I'll write it. I don't want to disappoint you guys! Okay, so here is the next chapter, hope you guys like it!

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Erik continued walking down the air-conditioned hallways of the Met, his latest music in hand. He waved to some of the ballerinas that made their way down the hall, and the ballerinas, in turn, went into a giggling fit.**

Erik smiled and continued the hall until he came to Madame Giry's office. He knocked lightly on the door and when no one answered, knocked again. When he saw that no one was inside, he stepped back out.

He caught one of the stage hands and asked him where Madame Giry was. He informed him that she was in one of the private rooms and gave him the directions on where to go.

He followed the direction and found himself down a lonesome hallway, a radio playing classical music echoed through the walls. All the doors were closed, except one which was left slightly ajar. Erik found that it was the room the music was emanating from.

He glimpsed inside and his breath was taken away.

A girl, no more than eighteen in a black leotard and black ballet slippers dancing in front of a mirror. There was something about her that made him loose his breath, she had grace, skill and balance and ….

_Discipline. _

The word came to him suddenly, there was something about her. He wasn't quite sure what it was. There was such skill and grace in that small body. It was as if she were gushing with untapped talent.

Her auburn curls were like a curtain over face which cascaded down her back and spilled over her shoulders. She pirouetted and stood on her toes but something happened that made her loose her concentration and fall to the floor.

Erik would have gone to help her but she pounded her small fist on the hardwood floor. "Damn it!"

Another woman came into view, she was in her mid-forties, her hair graying, her cane pounded on the floor as she walked. Erik knew who she was, she always wore her salt and pepper hair in a bun.

"Christine," she said with a gentle tap of her cane on the floor. "You are not concentrating."

"Concentrating, my ass," the girl on the floor said. "I can't help it if all I can feel right now is anger!"

Erik took a step back. He knew that voice clearly. He knew who that girl was. He looked at the scene before him in confusion but barely breathing so that they wouldn't catch him. He didn't know that his little phantom was a ballet dancer.

Madame Giry sighed. "Once again, Christine."

The girl got up from the floor and got into her opening stance and soon as the music started again, she continued her dancing.

_Christine…._ Erik looked at the girl. His little Phantom's name was Christine. Funny, he had never stopped and thought about what her name would be or that she was into ballet.

Erik admired the curves of her body, before, she would always wear a baggy sweater and jeans but now in the black leotard, he could see she was skinny, almost too skinny but voluptuous just the same. Luciana was beautiful in the aesthetic way, she was gorgeous but this Christine…

She was pure. It was the only word that came to him. There was an air around her that demanded his attention, now more than ever. She looked more human than he had ever seen her. She looked vulnerable.

The song ended and Christine's finishing stance was on the floor, her legs stretched out in front her.

"Good, Christine, good, but you have not been practicing."

Christine laughed. "Giry, I cannot practice pirouettes in that hole I call home."

Madame Giry shook her head. "You have a lot of potential I hate to see it go to waste. Your father wouldn't want you to."

"I come here every week, do I not?"

Madame Giry sighed. "It's not enough. You should come live with me, Christine."

Christine snorted as she stretched on the floor. "Yeah, sure. Who would keep an eye on your daughter then?"

There was a silence that followed. "How is Marguerite?" Madame Giry said, her voice softening.

Christine looked up from the floor. "She told me yesterday that she was going to stop and I told her I would help her. She lied, she was gone this morning when I went to see her."

Madame Giry sat down on the piano bench that the radio was on and Erik had to lean almost his whole weight against the wall in order to hear her words.

"I don't know what to do with that girl," she said sadly. "Thank God for you Christine, you haven't given up on her."

The girl sighed. "Not yet anyways. If she keeps up with this, Giry, I'll just stop all together. This is the second time she has done this to me and I hate to be ridiculed."

Madame Giry sighed once more. "Don't give up on her, Christine. You are the only one she has."

Christine started to go through the songs on the CD in the radio. "I know, Madame, besides if I give up on her then how will I be able to bribe free lessons from you? No information on your daughter Meg and no more free lessons for me."

Madame Giry stood and put a hand to her eyes, to wipe her tears. "Same time next week, I presume?"

"Do I have anything better to do?"

"Good."

Just as Madame Giry was about to speak, a horrible screeching began to pour from the speakers of the radio. Erik's first instinct was to cover his ears, which Christine did herself. She placed her hands over her ears and kicked the radio until it knocked onto the floor.

Christine looked at Madame Giry, flustered. Madame Giry didn't seem to mind that Christine had broken her radio permanently. "That was my good radio, Christine," she said exasperated.

"You still have that _cow_ singing here!" Christine asked, hollering at the old woman in front of her. "Are the managers deaf? She has no talent!"

"Carlotta is a good actress, she can also sing well."

"The woman is tone-deaf! I am sure she can not tell the difference between what a crescendo and allegretto is!"

Erik silently laughed to himself. She seemed to know something about music.

Madame Giry laughed. "And I assume you can do better?"

It was Christine's turn to laugh. "Of course! If it weren't for this curse, I would have her croaking like a frog from embarrassment!"

Madame Giry laughed even more.

"_Oh, how strange!_

_Like a spell does the evening bind me! _

_And a deep languid charm_

_I feel without alarm_

_With its melody enwind me _

_And all my heart subdue…"_

Erik felt his breath leave him again. That voice! That perfectly clear, crystal voice! It made the hair on his arm stand, it sent chills down his body, bring tears to his eyes…it was so painfully beautiful! So unearthly perfect!

In his state of shock, he dropped the portfolio in his hand. The opera he was to give to the Metropolitan Opera House. His latest opera, he was to give to Madame Giry so that it could be performed if they so wished.

But at that moment, he hated that music, he loathed the music he had spent hours on end composing, perfecting. He felt ashamed of it, the music seemed empty now. He hadn't known of this voice, if he had he would have written the music for her! For her voice alone!

He dropped to his knees and fumbled along the floor retrieving every piece of paper he had lost. Just as he was about to pick up the last piece of music a small hand beat him to it.

She looked over the music as she spoke. "I should cut off our ears for eavesdropping but I like you too much to do that, angel."

He stood to his full height and took the music from her hand as she handed it to him.

She had to look up to him in order to look at him in the face and once she did, he saw that she had blue eyes. Eyes as clear and beautiful as the sky.

He could only see her left eye, her right was hidden under her curtain of mahogany curls, if only….

He moved his hand to brush aside her hair but she stepped back from him and turned to Madame Giry. "You should speak to your boy about being in places where he is not wanted."

"Erik, dear," Madame Giry's greeting was warm and welcoming unlike Christine's. "What brings you here? You have brought another opera for us?"

Erik looked at them dumbfounded but shook his head. No, he had to re-write it all. All of it. He needed to make it fit to _her_ voice. Hers alone.

"Then why are you here," Madame Giry questioned with obvious curiosity. "You are too much of a busy young man to just come to chat."

Erik cleared his throat. "That is precisely why I have come, Madame. I wish to speak to you."

Madame Giry nodded. "Very well, shall we go to my office, then?"

Erik nodded and looked over at where Christine was standing. She was starting to put the dreaded sweatshirt over herself again, the hoody was once more over her head, obstructing the view of her ivory skin.

"Jessica," Madame Giry said to Christine. "We shall talk later, child."

"Sure, thing," Christine said as she placed a duffle bag over her shoulder.

Erik looked at both of them confused. Was her name Christine or Jessica? What was going on?

He was about to ask but Christine was already flying out the door. Erik dropped his papers again and ran to her, stopping her by grabbing her wrist, not wanting to let her go.

He didn't want for her to go.

She looked from his hand to his face. "I don't like to be touched."

Erik said the only thing that came to him. "You have a wonderful voice."

He could have sworn she smiled but it was hard to tell under the shadow of the hood. "Thank you."

He continued to stare at her, to try to make out her features when Madame Giry cleared her throat. "You can let go of her, Erik."

Erik nodded but let go slowly, then she was gone.

"What did you want to talk about Erik?"

Erik turned on his heels. "Who is that girl, Madame Giry? I must know."

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**Dun dun dun! Okay, i must stop. If it was good or not, let me know, thank you for all your helpful reviews! If you want something happening in this fic, let me know. right now, all ideas are going to A Memory's Phantom and I have none in this one! Okay bye!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello everyone! I'm glad many of you are reading my little fic! I have big placs for this one an have no means of abandoning A Memory's Phantom. Not to worry, I shall updtae that one soon enough. As soon as the writer's block I have, leaves. Here is two chapters in one, I found they were very short so I just put them together.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or it's characters. I do, however, own the idea and the plot and all that good stuff. If you all didn't know, the verse Christine sang in the previous chapter was from Susan Kay's Phantom. So, yeah thats it.

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Madame Giry laughed. "Erik, you must be kidding! Why are you interested in Jessica?"

"How do you know of her? Is that her name?"

Madame Giry looked at the man in front of her and smiled, touching his cheek slightly. "Erik, my dear boy, you should not worry about her. She is just fine. She can take care of herself."

"Madame Giry," he said breathing her name. "That voice, that grace- she has so much skill."

Madame Giry nodded. "Yes, I know." She walked over to the ruined radio and picked it up. "But that girl has an ill temper, she snaps at anything." When Madame Giry said no more, Erik pressured her on.

"Where does she live?"

He could have sworn he saw her swallow a lump in her throat, as if she were uncomfortable. "In the city, if that is what you mean."

Erik approached Madame Giry, stepping over his unsatisfactory opera. "I want to see her again."

Madame Giry looked at him inquiringly. "Is that so? I am afraid, Erik, that Jessica can only be found when she wants to be."

"Is that her name?" Erik asked. "Her real name?"

Madame Giry nodded. "It is, yes. Jessica Sherold."

"Since when do you have a daughter, Madame Giry?" he asked stepping closer.

The old woman was kind and patient, but she felt uneasy, he could sense it in her low chuckle. "You know, Erik, you are a very curious young man."

"Meg, is that her name? Short for Marguerite?"

"Erik," she said cautiously. "I am beginning to think that Jessica was right."

Erik stepped back and sighed, picking up the papers. "I met that girl not long ago. She denied me when I tried to help her. I have tried to help her but nothing, she will not let me. What can I do to help her?"

Madame Giry laughed. "Jessica needs no help, she will accept it from no one. She is too proud to ask for it." She sighed. "I blame the world for that."

Erik's head snapped up. "What?" He stood with rage. "Has anyone tried anything to hurt her?"

Madame Giry looked at him questioningly. "Erik, why are you so concerned for her?"

Erik looked at her unsure. "I-I don't know." He looked at the woman pensively. "I want to help her, genuinely help her, she seems so lost-" Then he stopped, realizing how silly he sounded. "It's probably nothing."

Madame Giry sighed. "Every time that she accepted help from someone, they have let her down, she knows that the only person she can confide in is herself."

"Not everyone is like that," Erik said to her as she sat down on the piano bench.

She stood from the piano bench and took some CD's in her open hand. "Everyone she has met so far has done so." She looked down at the floor harshly. "I hate them for that. That girl, she has so much potential, she has much to offer the world and yet-" She sighed again. "Enough of that. Erik, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"Exactly that," Erik said as he placed his fingers over the piano keys. As he played he spoke, not missing a note. "That Jessica, I-I want to show her that not everyone is evil. She immediately thought that of me when I offered it to her."

Madame Giry picked up the radio, harshly as if she were mad at herself because of the conversation they were having. "Enough about Jessica." Abruptly, she laughed to herself. "Silly me, getting carried away-"

Erik stood with her and stopped her from walking away by gently putting a hand to her shoulder. "Madame, I have to help her."

She looked at him confused but her features softened. "Jessica will not accept your help, she is like that. She won't even accept _my_ help." She sighed and looked out the window. "Sometimes I hate her stubborn attitude, but it's the only defense she has in the world." She looked out the window as if deep in thought. "Erik, dear, you must forgive me. I'm suddenly very tired. Excuse me."

Erik stayed in the small room as Madame Giry left. Erik looked out the window, just as Madame Giry had done. He didn't know what it was about Christine –or was it Jessica?- that made him want to help her as badly as he did. Was it her voice? The fact that she seemed to have a passion for the arts as himself?

_No_, he thought shaking his head_. No, that isn't it. _It was her, just her. The mystery of her. The fact that she had so much to give the world but hid in the shadows.

Erik brought his fingers down upon the piano and began to play a gentle song. He wanted to bring her out of the darkness, show her the light. He wanted to give her everything he could to make her see the potential and beauty in her. And yet, he still didn't know why…

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Christine continued down the busy street, her hands in her pockets, hardly glancing at the people around her as she moved down the street. She needed time to think, to get things in order. She felt something that she hadn't felt in a long time.

Delight.

She was glad that he liked her voice, no matter how cold she had been to him. It was one thing to hear from Madame Giry that she had a good voice because she was the only person she knew, but Erik, someone she hardly knew, telling her that she had a good singing voice –that was what made her happy.

Happiness. The voice sounded weird to Christine, she hadn't felt anything like that in six years, before her father died. The feeling, just like the word, was alien to her.

She shook her head, not wanting any memory to come to her, she needed to concentrate on what she was doing first.

She felt the slight pain in her stomach, she was hungry. Worse than hungry, she was starving, she hadn't eaten all day. She had no money and she was desperate for food.

She would have eaten with Madame Giry as she always did after a lesson but with Erik there, she had to make haste and leave. No one could know she was there. If they did know, she didn't want to think of what would happen if Moncharmin, one of the managers, would do to Madame Giry. Fire her, no doubt, but the woman had no other way to bring food to the table.

After all the kindness that woman had shown Christine, she couldn't do that. She wouldn't let it be her fault if any harm ever befell her.

Her stomach growled once again and Christine found herself in a foul mood.

_Damn that meddler! Damn him! _At that moment, she hated Erik for cutting their meeting short making Christine abruptly leave and yet….

_You have a wonderful voice…_

She would have smiled if she remembered how. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought she had a crush on him. She chuckled bitterly, she hated men. Loathed them, especially the one that took advantage of her when she was still grieving her father…

She felt her fists clench in her pockets and barely felt the blood trickle from the palm of her hands. She couldn't feel her own nails cut into her skin. She was numb in that moment and she reached into the coat of an unsuspecting man.

She tucked his wallet close to her and continued walking. She was grateful for picking up the few tricks she knew, for the basic skills that brought food to her stomach.

She was graceful and quiet and never aroused suspicion.

Her thoughts went back to the man, to Erik. Maybe she did have a crush on him, did he feel that way, too?

She snorted. Y_eah right, and I'm the bloody queen of England. _

She searched the wallet and found only three dollars. She scoffed and threw the wallet in the nearest trashcan. She needed more. Three dollars wouldn't buy her enough food to satisfy her.

She continued searching for potential prey.

Since when did he write operas? How much had he heard? Did he hear of Meg? Did he hear of her private classes? How much did he know of her? Did he know her real name?

Only Madame Giry and Meg knew her real name. She _hated_ that people knew her Christian name, she didn't like to be called by the person she was before, the one that had died the night they put her father into the ground.

_How much does he know?_

She was so lost in her thoughts that she had been careless. As she reached into another purse, she felt a large warm hand wrap around her wrist.

She looked from her hand half in the bag and up to the man that held her wrist. There was no mistaken the blue uniform or the shiny badge that went along with it.

She had been caught. By a cop, no less. Only one thought went through her mind. "Shit."

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**What will happen to dear Christine now? Review and you shall find out. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Nothing much to say about this chapter, really. I want to thank my reviewers! Thank you all for your support! Hopefully, this story will be as succesful as A Memory's Phantom, which I have no intention of leaving! Okay, here we go.**

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Christine sighed as she looked at the bars over the windows. She shuddered, it really was depressing to look out at the buildings. The night was as dark as always, the only light in there being the flickering fluorescent one too far away to brighten anything.

She scolded herself time and time again for getting caught. After six years of stealing from different people, she was finally caught.

She punched the wall in anger, cursing under her breath. There was no one to save her now. No one that would come to her aid with the bail the judge set.

She smiled wickedly, at least she didn't go without a fight.

When they dragged her into the precinct , she fought all the officers, giving one a bloody nose. Then when they handcuffed her to the chair, she tried to get free.

When they had to get her mug shot, she kneed one in the groin, another she kicked in the stomach and was held back before biting an unfortunate officer.

When they saw how difficult she was being when they wanted to take off her hoody, the captain came out and took it off himself.

She saw his eyes grow wide with fear as soon as he pulled back her hair. She looked at him with a cold stare. Oh, the things she had wanted to do to him, to say!

Well, she had said things to him, she even spat at him. Even when she was before the judge, she hadn't regretted what she had done.

Maybe the judge had been in a good mood that day, or maybe he saw something in her. Nevertheless, for theft, resisting arrest and assault, she received a small bail.

It was a small amount, yes, but she couldn't afford it, not even Madame Giry whom she called to tell her that she wouldn't be able to watch over Meg for a while. She told her of her predicament but was cut short when her time ran out.

That had been over two hours ago. It was eight now and sleep couldn't find her. She looked down at her hands. There was no one to miss her, maybe except Meg. But Meg, she knew wouldn't last long, as soon as she found herself a little sad, she would inject herself with something to make her numb.

She had no family, no one. No one would even think of her. She looked through the empty cells, wondering why she was alone. It was after all, New York, shouldn't it be overflowing with hoodlums such as herself?

_No_, she told herself, _they're too busy not getting caught_. She sighed again. "Damn it."

She turned her head to the cell door when she heard a door open. She almost jumped when she heard an officer bang his baton against the bars of her cell.

"Daaé, you have a visitor."

Christine furrowed her eyebrows. "A visitor?"

The officer turned to the person walking in. "Call when you are ready, sir."

Christine looked to the man and almost lost her breath. It was Erik! What was he doing there? Why would he even show? Maybe he had gone to-

But that thought stopped in its tracks. She knew why he was there, the realization hit her suddenly.

"Come to add a couple of more hundred dollars to my bail, have?" She asked coldly. "After all, that's what happens when you get caught for stealing. Is that why you're here? To confess that I stole your money so that you can see me locked up?"

He said nothing about the matter, only, "Good Evening, Jessica."

She still wouldn't look at him. "Come to watch the freak in a cage? To see justice served, is that it?"

"No," he said, his hands wrapping around the bars. "I came to see you."

She looked at him through the mess of curls over her face. "To see me suffer, I presume?"

"No, Jessica, don't think that of me."

Oh, that voice. It seemed heavy with worry and concern. Was it just her exhausted imagination?

"Then why are you here?' She asked him, thankful the shadows were hiding her. "To watch me rot behind bars?"

"Quite the contrary, actually," he said his voice soft. "I have come to help you, to set you free."

Christine just looked at him. "What? How?"

"I have paid your bail."

Christine just stared, for the first time in years, she stuttered. "Wh-Ho-_why_?"

He sighed and his hands moved down the bars. "You refused my help once and I am still determined to do it. If you will not accept it, I will force it on you."

Christine was at a loss for words and struggled with her next statement. "Y-you know nothing about me, you don't know if I have ever done anything worse than this and yet you still give me a chance. Why?"

Erik was silent for a moment. "Jessica you are a diamond in the rough. Black and tarnished and old but a diamond, nonetheless. You might not think that of yourself but I do." He paused. "Now will you let me help you, Jessica?"

Christine looked at him with kind eyes. Yes, he was indeed an angel. An angel sent for her that actually wanted to help her. He didn't feel as if it was an obligation. No. He did it because he cared. He actually cared for her.

Christine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The thought of someone caring scared her. It scared her deeply. But she wanted his help, al though she was too proud to admit it. She wanted to stop living as she was. A malnutrition, deformed rat clawing her way through the sewer of life.

"Yes," she finally whispered, blinking back tears. "Yes."

She let out a long breath. She had never done something so difficult in her life. Never. But as soon as she said that three letter word, she felt as if a burden had been lifted. She had never dropped her defenses like she had at that moment, though she wouldn't show him that.

When she looked at him on the other side of the cell, she could see that he visibly relaxed.

Then his tone changed, as if he were getting down to business. "If you want me to help you, Jessica, it of course needs some sacrifice on you part."

Christine lifted an eyebrow. "Go on."

He started pacing back and forth in front of the cell. "Until you are able to get on your own two feet, I shall need you come and live with me."

Christine could only stare.

"I have a spare bedroom you can use. Soon you will start working that will be later clarified as soon as I make the arrangements. There will be no drugs, alcohol or harmful substances under my roof."

Christine scoffed. "Oh, please, as if I use any of that shit."

"No profanity, either. For the time being you will not leave the house until it is approved by me. Also, you will take voice lessons from me every night at six. You will attend every one. No stealing. If you need money, simply tell me and I shall give it to you."

Christine just stared. _A job? Money? Voice lessons? Was he serious?_

"It may be hard to get accustomed to at first, but my rules stand. Understood?"

Christine smiled, loving the way he took charge of the situation and said answer him with utter calm. "Yes, but I have two conditions." She stopped but when she saw him nodding in understanding, she continued. "I must have a lock on my door which I only have the key to. No one else, not even you."

He considered then nodded. "Done."

"I also have certain responsibilities that I must take care of. I will inform you of my leaving but do not question me on my return. Got it?"

He considered again and reluctantly approved. He put out his hand to her. "Are we agreed?"

Christine admired his long fingers. "Agreed."

They both shook hands to seal the deal, neither knowing what they were getting into.

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**Isn't Erik such a sweetie? Okay, reviews please, I must know if this story is well-written and stuff. God bless!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello everyone! Sorry for the delay. Real life sucks. But enough about me. Here is the next chapter.  
Mad props to my beta, Erik'sLittleLotte. Thank you!

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She asked him that if they were to leave that night, she needed go to her apartment for some things. It had been the first time he had been down that block and she specifically forbade him from going inside the building. She came back out almost half an hour later in a worse mood than she had left.

When Erik had asked her what was wrong, she told him not to worry that all had been taken care of. He was so surprised that she didn't answer him by saying to mind his own business or screw something that he let it go.

His apartment was not at all small, even though it was the smallest he could bear to live in. Upon walking in from the elevator, he was greeted by the very large living room. It was richly decorated with mahogany wood, and dark green and red. There was a leather couch and ottoman in front of the plasma television. It was parallel to the window covered wall that led to the balcony.

Across from that was the dining room complete with a small chandelier and china cabinet. The swinging door led to the marble and wood kitchen which he hardly used.

In the living room there were two doors opposite each other. One led to his bedroom and bathroom, the other led to the hallway which led to three more rooms.

The study held hundreds of books upon its walls, complete with drapes upon the walls and a piano which he used to compose music.

Then there was the Louise-Philippe room, the one she would be staying in. There was no closet, only an armoire, she had a four post bed on a platform with blue drapes over the dark wood columns. Even though he knew that he would never receive a guest, he fixed up the room. There were dark blue silks and a velvet bedspread laid out. Her bathroom, like his, was marble and highly maintained. He figured that she was highly impressed with everything, especially when her mouth dropped at the sight. Or at least, he thought it did. She remained aloof to him, even as he explained how everything ran in his home.

"The study will always be open to you, I have numerous books which you might find interesting. You may borrow any that you wish."

She only nodded.

"This is also your home, so you may do anything you wish."

"Except vandalize and enter your room."

He smiled. "Yes. Precisely." He cleared his throat. "I will always leave at seven and come back at four. Sometime even later if I am unsatisfied with my work."

"What is it that you do, Erik?" She asked suddenly.

"I am architect."

"An architect that does construction. I've never heard of that before."

Erik shrugged. "I like to work with my hands."

Christine looked around and he heard her mumble, "I don't doubt it."

Erik went on as if he didn't hear her. "Tomorrow I will be sure to get here early, so we can go out for dinner." He saw her stiffen and he knew why. There was a reason she avoided people. She probably didn't want to go to a restaurant as he had planned. "Or I can bring Chinese if you want."

When he saw her visibly relax he waited for her answer. "Yes, that would be nice."

"Good. Expect me at around five."

She nodded. "Yes."

"In the weekend we can buy you clothes or-"

"No, no. That's quite all right. I have enough." She pointed to her duffel bag on the floor.

He nodded. "The room is spacious so you have enough room to practice your pirouettes."

If he could have seen her face, he would have guessed that she smiled.

He began to look around the room. "Well, that's it. You can put your clothes in the armoire. There are towels in your private bathroom and all of that." He began to leave. "I trust you can make yourself breakfast and lunch?"

"I won't burn your kitchen down."

He laughed a little and continued to leave. "Good night, Jessica."

As he was about to leave, she spoke up. "Erik?"

"Yes?" He asked turning.

"It's Christine."

"What is?"

She sighed a little and took a step forward. "My name is Christine, not Jessica."

He smiled. "I'm glad that you at least give me that much trust to know your true name."

She smiled. "Good night, Erik."

"Good night, Christine." He shut the door to her room, smiling.

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Erik looked at his watch and went back to work. He calculated the figures for what seemed to be the seventh time and looked at his watch again. 

He tapped the face of the watch and shook his wrist, putting it to his ear. The clicking satisfied him to a point but he shook his wrist again. "Stupid damn contraption," he muttered to his Rolex. "Why aren't you going any faster?"

"Well," a voice said from behind him. "If you keep looking at the face of the watch every five seconds, it won't help."

Erik rolled his eyes, more at his own foolishness than the person behind him. "Good afternoon, Nadir."

"You seem to be in a hurry," he said, almost laughing. "What is it?"

Erik only continued working.

"Ready to go home so soon?" Nadir asked.

"You're not supposed to be here, Nadir. You are neither the architect nor in construction, what is it now?"

"I have not come here for you," Nadir said as he looked over to a hole in a wall, where a window would finish it. "I have come to watch the delectable morsel sunbathing."

Erik rolled his eyes, knowing he was watching Luciana in front of the pool. Erik knew why she was doing it in front of the workers. He would not be surprised if one of them, if not two, went home with a stubbed toe for not paying attention to his duties.

Erik looked over at Nadir as he continued to drool over the girl. "Would you like for me to get you a bucket?"

Nadir shook his head and blinked a couple of times to look at Erik. "That girl is hot, her friend's another story."

Erik went to the window. "Friend?"

When he saw who it was, he groaned. He would recognize that red hair anywhere. Her figure was that of the number eight, both her bust and hips too large. Her middle was always exposed even though it did not help her any. If anything it made her more ridiculous than possible.

"She's what, fifty pounds overweight?" Nadir shuddered. "I might not sleep tonight."

Erik chuckled. "Carlotta's not the best choice out there, I agree." He sighed and went back to the plans. "Carlotta and Luciana are best friends."

Nadir smiled. "You think I can get a date with Luciana?"

"A date?"

"Well, why not?"

"You're not rich, don't have a title and are too good for her."

Nadir's expression softened. "Oh, Erik! I didn't know you cared!"

Erik lifted an eyebrow. "Come now, Nadir-"

Nadir laughed. "Awkward moment, I'm sure. I only came to see how you were doing, You know, if everything was going –"

"No," Erik interrupted. "Why are you _really_ here?"

"Well, Erik. I have come to ask you if you are willing to go to a gentlemen's club with me."

Erik groaned.

"For drinks. Just you and me. Or we can invite the ladies, I'll even let you borrow Luciana for a while-"

"When you are done fantasizing-"

Nadir laughed. "That's right. Luciana is yours, isn't she?"

Erik sighed and looked at his friend. "Aren't you ever tired of saying the same thing over and over again?"

Nadir looked off as if deep in thought. "Nope." Then he smiled. "Come on, man. I can't help it if all I think about is the Italian beauty in a bikini downstairs. The way the sun glistens off her skin, the way her black hair shines in the sun-"

"Yeah, sure," Erik said chuckling. "I'm sure you're thinking about the best way to prop her up on a table and finally being able to-"

As he said this Erik turned and he felt the breath leave his body. "Giovanni!"

He could not mistake the well dressed man in the doorway. Giovanni was dressed in the finest silk in the finest suit as always. No doubt he had come from the office in the city just now. He had graying hair combed back and his moustache just as graying. His eyes were a dark green that held years of experience and wisdom. He looked to be sixty but was actually fifty. Too much work had tired him out early in life.

He regarded his daughter so much he treated her like a princess. Ever she had a whim, he was there to please her. He had even told Erik that for her fifteenth birthday, she had her favorite actor, Mel Gibson come over and talk to her for an entire day. For Christmas, she had gone on the private plane to Paris. The girl was spoiled rotten, if she did not get what she wanted, she would do everything in her power to get it.

And here he was talking to Nadir about him having his way with her.

Erik cleared his throat nervously. "Signor, how are you today?"

"Ah," he said gracefully and approached him. "I am glad that you are here. I was hoping to catch you before you went on your way. I wish to speak with you about the plans you have for us in my office. Will you accompany me?"

Erik looked to Nadir. "Seems that we will have to push those plans for some other day." Then turning to Giovanni, he nodded. "Of course, signor. If you please?"

Giovanni nodded his head and led Erik through the construction site to his own home. He led him through the endless labyrinth of hardwood and expensive paintings and past all the servants cleaning or asking him if he wanted anything, which he dismissed quickly.

He led him to the den of his large home. They took a step down and were instantly greeted with warmth. Giovanni first went to his liquor cabinet. "Would you like anything, my boy?"

"No, no thank you," Erik responded politely.

Giovanni nodded. "I'll take a scotch then." As he poured his drink he said, "I see things are moving ahead of schedule."

"Yes, sir, they are."

"And the new wing of the house will be completed on time?"

"A couple of days ahead if the weather permits, sir."

Giovanni laughed a little. "Stop with the formalities, Erik. There is no need to be so professional around me. I see you as a son."

Erik said nothing, but took a seat where Giovanni indicated across his desk. "I am very pleased with the work you have been doing for me and I am glad that I chose you as my architect. Perhaps this will not be the last time we see each other about adding another wing to my home. Luciana was thinking of adding another room for herself."

Erik almost blanched. _Another_ room in the already two acre mansion?

Giovanni continued talking of his daughter. "She knows what she wants, that one. And I will do everything in my power to get it."

"She's very lucky to have a father like you, Giovanni," Erik responded.

Giovanni nodded and there was a silence that lasted almost two minutes.

Erik thought about leaving, and he almost did, but Giovanni cleared his throat and spoke again. "She's quite fond of you, Erik."

Erik blinked. "Who is?"

"Luciana," Giovanni said standing. "She has gotten quite attached to you." He laughed a little. "I think that one of the main reasons she has thrown that party of hers is because she is hoping you would be there. A masquerade, is what she wants, the girl has a lot of ideas. Do you have your costume?"

"Costume?"

"Yes, everyone needs a costume. Perhaps you would like to go matching with Luciana's costume? That would be nice."

Erik really didn't know what to say.

"You will be there, won't you?"

Erik nodded. "Yes, I promised her I would."

"Good," Giovanni said smiling, clapping him on the back. "You would not want to disappoint me now, would you?"

* * *

That was the sentence that had done. The statement that made him say something that he didn't want to say. 

"No, sir," Erik had responded. "I would not."

"Good," Giovanni said. "Al though her cousin will be her escort, you will save at least a dance for her."

Erik had bit back a groan. It wasn't as if he hated Luciana, no he did not, he just hated her personality. She was pompous, arrogant, and conceited. Not traits he found attractive in a woman. Not that Luciana wasn't attractive, she was. He just always saw himself with a simple girl, not someone like Luciana.

He made his way into the elevator, his bags in his hands, finally relaxing, finally home.

He put the key into the lock and went inside the dark apartment, grateful that the day was at last over. When he went inside the kitchen, he was surprised to find it cleaner than he had seen it in weeks.

He put the Chinese food on the counter and started taking out the plates when he heard a voice next to him, "You don't have to do that."

Erik looked to the doorway to find Christine, complete with hoody looking at him. Her face was in shadow as always and she seemed a little tense the way she had her arms crossed. He had to admit, she looked a little mysterious.

"Do what?" Erik asked, finding that his voice worked although he thought it wouldn't.

"I've already set the table," she said stepping to the side so that he could walk through. "Come and see."

He walked through the doorway and went to the dining room to find two place settings at opposite ends of the table. The chandelier over the table was lit, all that was missing were the food and the people.

"I took the liberty of looking through your cupboards and stuff in the kitchen so I could set the table." She looked at him and tilted her head. "Do you mind?"

"No, no," Erik said quickly. "Of course I don't mind."

"Then please, sit down," she told him. "Let me get dinner."

"No, let me get it," Erik said turning.

He stopped when he felt a hand over his wrist. "It's the least I could do, let me do it."

Erik nodded and when she left, he sat down in front of his plate.

When she gave him his food and everything was done and they started eating dinner, they said not a word. Erik didn't know what to say to her to make her a little more comfortable and he knew that she was too shy to speak.

But he knew he had to speak, even a little to make her at least smile.

"How did you spend your day?"

Christine looked up from her plate –she was currently jabbing at her sweet and sour chicken- and looked at him. "Just fine, I began reading Jane Eyre."

"Did you find it to your liking?"

She nodded. "I did."

And that had been it. None wanted to speak anymore, that was until he noticed that she was uncomfortably eating dinner. It was as if it was too hot for her because she rolled up her sleeves.

"You could take off that sweater of yours if it's too hot."

Christine shrugged. "I'm fine."

"This is your home now, too," Erik insisted. "If you are uncomfortable-"

At that comment, she began to roll her sleeves down and did no more. "I'm fine."

Erik didn't touch the subject anymore. When they finished dinner, she went back to her room and closed herself in until six.

Erik didn't even hear the grandfather clock strike the hour as he played on his piano. There was hardly anything that ever distracted him from his music.

Nothing was more sacred to him than his music. It could be harsh and cruel or beautiful and gentle if he so wished it. Now, he was in a neutral mood, only playing to pass the time until their first lesson.

He didn't hear the door open, either, but he did hear a small angelic voice call for him. "Ready when you are, maestro."

He turned from the piano toward the door and had to swallow a large lump that had accumulated in his throat at the sight that awaited him at the door.


	9. Chapter 9

**Wow, an actualy update. This is beyond a miracle. Thank you for all of those coming back to read the story. Of course, thanks a million to my beta Erik'sLittleLotte. **

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He would have had the same reaction if she were wearing a sack of potatoes instead of the ordinary jeans and the old worn out sweater. There was something about her. Something that made him immediately stand and just stare at her. Neither of which he did.

She had a commanding presence, something he himself didn't possess. Except only around his workers and even then he didn't have that imposing presence that she brought in with her.

_Aminta…_

Of course, suddenly he realized why she had taken his breath away. She was Aminta. In his mind she was the woman he had thought up of years before. The one that had haunted his very thoughts for years.

She was perfect.

Erik turned from her and cleared his throat and just waved a hand to let her in. "Come in."

He was surprised she didn't hear the tremble in his voice. If she did, she made no indication of it and stood next to the piano. "What were you playing?"

He shrugged. "Something to pass the time."

She placed an elbow over the piano and her chin in the palm of her hand. "I didn't know you played the piano."

He nodded then stood to take out the music from the piano bench. "We shall start with some scales so you can warm up-"

"Who taught you?" She interrupted, still curious.

"No one," he said as he rifled through different books and sheets of music. "I just picked it up one day."

"You must be really talented then," Christine said almost dismissively. "Very impressive."

He tried to sound just as dismissive but failed when his thanks almost came out as a squeak. He cleared his throat quickly then began the lesson. "Christine, do you know the scales?"

"Some," Christine admitted. "My fa- that is, I picked up a couple."

Erik raised an eyebrow to her comment. "Then you will be able to sing along to the piano."

He began the count off and they began the scales. More than once he had to correct her posture.

"Head back, high. Good. Now the shoulders, relax them." Then he sighed. "It would be better if you didn't cover your mouth with the jacket."

"Too bad," was all she answered before she turned away from him.

"Christine," Erik sighed again. "Don't be difficult. This will help you. That's all I want to do."

It was Christine's turn to sigh and this time she didn't protest. She put the hood of her sweater back and ran her fingers through her hair to make sure it was covering her face. Not once did she face him.

"Satisfied?" She asked annoyed.

"Yes," Erik said. "Now, let's do this again."

After more warm-ups, when Erik was satisfied, they began on a simple song he composed years before.

Christine breezed through it and almost threw it on the piano. "Is that all you got?"

Erik looked at her infuriated. "Don't get cocky, Christine. You would be amazed at how many people went to utter failure because they were too arrogant."

Christine scoffed.

Erik shook his head. "I am doing this for your own good. Don't act like a five year old whenever someone tries to tell you something to help you."

Christine took the paper again and said through gritted teeth. "Yes, _maestro."_

Erik held back a sigh. "You don't have to call me that, Christine. Erik will suffice."

Christine turned her covered half of her face towards him. "Yes, fine."

"And stop with the attitude," Erik snapped. "I don't like it."

After a second of silence Christine spoke, "I'm sorry." This time it sounded sincere. "It's just that I guess I've never been in this kind of situation before. I don't like people telling me what to do."

"Well, then," Erik told her. "Now would be the perfect time to start."

Christine nodded. "Shall we start again?"

Erik smiled. "Certainly."

After an hour and a half of the lesson Erik thought it would be best if they discontinued.

"That would be all for tonight," Erik told her. "Tomorrow I would like it if I didn't have to correct your posture all the time."

"It's just until I get used to it, I suppose," Christine said putting the hood back on.

"It may be difficult in the beginning, but once time goes by, it will be easier. I promise."

Christine only placed her elbow on the piano once again as he put the music away. "Will you play something?"

Erik looked up slightly. "What do you want me to play?"

"Anything."

"Oh," he said sitting, confused by her request. "All right." His expert fingers played over the keys. It was one of his favorite songs, one of the first he had began playing when he was child.

"Do you like playing the piano?" She asked, curious.

He nodded. "Immensely. It was the first instrument I began to play. It will forever be my favorite."

"Have you always liked music?"

He looked at her curiously. Why was she all of a sudden asking so many questions and so interested in him? Erik saw this as an opportunity. Maybe she would trust him more and open up to him if he told her all about him.

"Ever since I was a child," he confided. "My mother's friend was the best violinist in the state, so he gave me lessons. Everyone said that I surpassed him by the time I was twelve. I play both the violin and piano."

She cocked her head, he could have sworn she was laughing beneath her shadowed hood. "Then why did you choose architecture over music? I'm sure you would have made an excellent teacher in a school or a private tutor."

He shrugged and then placed his elbows over the keys, making a horrible sound. "I suppose I followed my mother's plan for me in my life."

Christine seemed interested so he continued. He traced the gold design on the black grand piano with his long fingers. "She didn't believe there to be a future in music so I went after my second passion: Architecture." He smiled and looked at her as he placed his hands over the keys again, this time playing a cheery tune. "In the end, it was the best option. I now get to do architecture and compose music on my free time."

"That's wonderful," she said with obvious happiness in her voice. "You get to do what you love all the time."

Erik didn't want to risk losing this opportunity to try to get her to trust him so he continued the conversation.

"Personally, in architecture, my favorite era must be the Renaissance. It changed the way everyone thought of architecture-" He was about to continue when she cut him off.

"My favorite of the Renaissance is _Santa Maria del Fiore_, the cathedral in Florence. Bruneschelli was a great architect. So were the others after him. If I were an architect like him and I died, I'd want them to continue with my work." She looked up from where she was looking which were her hands. "Only if it means I become the most famous of all of them, because it is my work."

He smiled at her. How did she manage to know something like that? If she was living in the street that probably meant she had no education.

Maybe he was wrong.

"Did you know that he fired all his workers one day because they were doing a horrible job and they were changing his plans?" She laughed a bit. "A perfectionist to the end."

Erik sat there, amazed by her. She was knew so much of something he loved. No one seemed to be interested in architecture anymore, and yet, she was. He didn't loose the opportunity to ask her something which he had debated with in college. "What do you think of gothic architecture?"

He completely blew her away with everything she knew. He was amazed by her intelligence, she knew more than a lot of his friends and she was a child living in the streets!

Yes, a child, she had to be no more than twenty, he could even tell by the way she talked.

It was why he went to the following conclusion. "You have already seen some of my musical work, perhaps you would like to see my architectural. One of these days, would you like to accompany me to my work site?"

She had been leaning over the piano but suddenly she forced herself up almost as if she had gotten herself too comfortable and she reminded herself of the situation. He was, after all, in her eyes, still a stranger.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she told him.

"Why not?" Erik told her. "You seem to enjoy talking about architecture. I'm sure you would like the new wing I'm adding to the estate I'm working on."

She shook her head firmly. "That's my final answer."

He sighed and stopped playing, his fingers still over the piano. "Christine, do not use your face as an excuse. You keep doing that, you keep pushing people away. I'm trying to help you Christine. Don't push me away too."

This proved to be the wrong thing to say because the once-cheerful Christine vanished, replaced by that girl Erik had first met. The bad-mouthed girl that had disappeared for almost a day, the one he wanted to free.

"Fuck you!" She hollered. "You don't know shit about me! Mind your own fucking business!" She pushed the wooden cover of the keys on top of his hands.

He jumped back just in time as it made contact as it closed with a deafening clack.

Erik paled. If his hands had been there, he probably would have broken a finger or two. That would mean it would be over for him playing the piano.

He looked to the door with fury in his eyes, ready to yell at her.

She was already gone, he could hear a door slamming in his apartment.

He could only quietly steam on the piano bench. It would make no sense to knock things over and throw things to relieve him of his mood.

No, he had to be rational. Calm. Composed.

If he had a pencil in his hands, he would have snapped it in two. If there were any vases, he would have knocked it over onto his precious Persian carpet.

After everything he had done. After everything he had to rearrange in his life to accommodate her, she was still an ungrateful little bitch.

Erik ran a hand through his hair and sighed, regretting calling her a bitch even if he had only thought about it. It wasn't her fault. He just couldn't shut up. Maybe what he said wasn't true.

He stood up and placed the cover correctly over the keys of the piano. No one had ever said that this was going to be easy. But he wouldn't give up. She had made some progress today, perhaps sometime soon she would give him the opportunity to learn about her.

He shut off the light of the study and walked to the living room.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "If she will ever forgive me."

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**If you would like for me to continue this story, please send me a review. I would greatly appreciate it. **


	10. Chapter 10

**It would be unfair of me to say that I forgot about this story. Because I haven't. It taunts me everytime I open Microsoft Word and have to do an essay for english. As well as A Memory's Phantom. I haven't forgotten about that one either. They're both being a pain in my side (a good pain, mind you, it means that I still have ideas for them) and I have decided to finish them. For good. Their endings will be up before summer finishes and my second year of college takes a hold of me. So yeah, I'm not dead (just in case some of you were wondering) and I am back. You might notice a slight change in the writing as the first half was written almost a year ago and the other half yesteday, so yea. Yay! If you don't remember what's been happening, well... go to the beginning and read again. jiji take care, God bless, and please leave a comment!

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_If Erik thinks he's getting an apology from me, he's sadly mistaken_. That was the only thought in Christine's mind that night. All she would do was pace around in her room. _My temporary room_, she corrected herself.

_How dare he? How _could_ he?_ She thought wildly. She kicked the bed as hard as she could in frustration

_Damn him! Damn Erik! _

She continued to pace the room. She would forever hate him for this. She would never forgive him for this. The mere thought of him mentioning her face again made her go through the roof.

He had made her feel normal for the first time in her life. It was almost as if she wasn't disfigured after all. That she was a normal girl talking to a normal guy having a normal conversation.

The conversation they had in the music room had almost made her feel normal. She had lowered her defenses in such a way that it scared her. To think, that she met someone like Madame Giry, someone that could read her like a book. Because that was what he did. He took her fear and exposed it for her.

At first she had only looked at him, then she went raving mad. She had regretted when she pushed the cover over his hands, but was instantly relieved to see that his fingers weren't hurt.

She would have hated to rid the world of such a fine and gifted composer. She had gone after the one thing that musicians coveted, the tool that brought an instrument to life.

She closed her eyes. Not only could they do that they could caress her skin, warm her cold body, give her something that she had long been denied.

_Damn you, Christine!_ She scolded herself. _A man takes pity on you and already you are having romantic fantasies of him! _

She punched the closest thing to her which happened to be the wall. She just looked at her hand as the pain shot up her arm. She bit her lip to keep from crying and took her hand back _You're not invincible, Christine._

"Shit," she said as she moved her hand to make sure nothing was broken.

Why did she have to torture herself? Why did she have to torment herself with those thoughts? She wasn't being fair with herself. There was no way that dark haired beauty would notice her.

She looked at her bag next to the bed. "I don't have to put up with this."

But what of Erik? He had been so kind to her. He had given her a place to stay, food to eat and something that she had long once thought had been dead in her soul. Music.

He was probably regretting he had helped her now. He would probably kick her out first thing in the morning.

She would just be doing him a favor.

"Screw this." She put her bag on her shoulder and left through the door.

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After she had spent the whole night walking through the city, only going back to her home when she felt she absolutely had to, her neighborhood was almost a welcoming sight. Despite the unwelcoming visage. 

Her neighborhood was the same as ever, even in the afternoon sun. She could hear shots everywhere, but she wasn't scared, she had grown used to it. If anything, they should be afraid of _her._ She did have quite the reputation.

And to think, that with Erik it didn't matter. It didn't matter to him that she had been arrested, had a dark past and an even darker personality. He was willing to see past all of that and get to know the real her.

She groaned in frustration and continued to the apartment building not too far away.

The real her. Who was the real her? Who was she inside, underneath the tough exterior she had made for herself? Was she really the person that Erik saw or was she the person she had shown to everyone for so long?

Madame Giry certainly believed in her, so did Erik. But they were the only ones. No one knew her. Meg didn't know her even though she was her "best" friend.

She looked up from the floor at the apartment building. It was so different from Erik's. This was gray, dilapidated, hopeless. Like…. She was. She almost laughed. Anybody would be hurt to think of such a thing but not her, she was used to it after all.

After everyone in her life shunned her, it was only expected.

She went up the familiar stairs, tired, her boots making loud heavy booming sounds, the chains on her jeans jingling almost melancholically next to her. She couldn't wait to go to her apartment, after walking aimlessly around all night. As small as it may be, it was most welcome, especially to dismiss everything as a dream. There was no one in this world that would take pity on her.

Erik was her angel, too good to become flesh.

She opened her apartment with the key she produced from her jean pocket.

"Christine!"

Christine turned from the door abruptly. No one knew her name here.

A petite blond ran to her from her own apartment to Christine. Of course, it had to be Meg. She didn't look like herself. She still looked as skinny as a rail, she looked like she had been stretched out over her bones. Her dirty blond hair was draped over her face, evidently wet, she had just come out of the shower.

Judging from the way her face lit up with a radiant smile of hers, she wanted something.

"Hello, Marguerite," Christine said indifferent, knowing that she wanted something and she most likely wouldn't approve of it.

"I haven't seen you around," she said, still smiling. "Everything okay?"

"I've only been gone for a couple of days," she said, crossing her arms.

"I was worried," Meg said with a different tone this time. She did sound genuinely worried. "I thought that maybe you wouldn't come back."

Christine sighed and started to go into the apartment. "I always come back to Hell."

Just as she was about to close the door, Meg stopped it with her hand. "Christine, do you have any money I can borrow?"

"_Borrow?" _Christine asked outraged, opening the door wider. "_Borrow?_ You never borrow money, you _take _it! I'm not giving you any money so you can keep shooting up on that shit. I'm not giving you anything anymore! I'm sick of your shit."

Christine began to close the door again but stopped when Meg all but threw herself at the closing door. "Christine please! Please! I beg you!"

Christine's heart didn't go out to her. She didn't feel sorry for her because she had a habit she couldn't –or wouldn't- break. She had so many chances.

"No."

She just about turned to leave but stopped when she saw Meg's face. She didn't stop because she was crying, no, it was much worse. Her eye was black and blue, it had a welt and her face looked like someone had punched her repeatedly. It looked like someone beat the shit out of her.

"Meg," Christine said, hiding her surprise. "Who did this to you?"

Meg sniffled. "It's Joe."

Christine paled, she could feel the blood freeze in her veins. Joe. No, it couldn't be.

"I've owed him money for some time now and he's come to get it."

Christine tried to swallow the lump in her throat. It couldn't be Joe. "But Joe never collects his money, his men always come and get it for him."

She tried to remain calm in front of Meg, she couldn't show her fear.

"But he said that this time was different. It's special. He wants to come himself. I-I don't know why. Christine, what do I do?"

Christine walked out of her apartment and took Meg by the hand, dragging her to the stairs. "We're getting the fuck out of here."

They almost made it.

Almost.

As soon as they turned the corner to the stairs, Christine froze.

She couldn't move, couldn't think. He was there. Her nightmare became real, it had taken corporeal form and it was in the two men in front of her.

Raoul de Chagny and Joseph Buquet.

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**Comment please!! **


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello everyone! Thank you for being so patient. I have to write this fast so here's what going on. This chapter has taken me at least two months to write, and it's really short, so you can imagine how much free time I have. Any energy I have goes to college, alas, there is no energy left for my imagination. My muse, Erik D. just eats Rocky Road ice cream and doesn't help much. I haven't given up on A Memory's Phantom so please bear with me. Please check out my newest (yeah, wrote it in june and haven't updated since but still, its new) fic. It's from D.N.Angel. It's called Lost Dreams. I really like that story and it would be a shame that I never get to write it because no one reviews. Thank you all again. Take care!! **

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He couldn't very well speak ill of Christine. He almost expected her to leave quickly but not because of what happened. Not because of what he said.

She was very short tempered but he didn't think that the small comment he had said could drive her out. He didn't really blame her. He temper was her only defense mechanism. Or the only one she knew.

When Erik saw that she was missing, he went out to look for her but with no luck. He even went to the apartment building that she had walked out of the other day and found nothing.

He was surprised with what he found. How could anyone live in such a place? How could that place even exist? He stopped thinking about it, he would go looking for her after work, he really couldn't afford to miss a day of work. He misses one day and the project gets delayed a week. He couldn't afford that.

A worker, younger than him approached him, completely drenched from head to toe, dirt spread across his face. "Sir, I think there's something you need to see"

Erik followed him through the labyrinth of workers, beams and tubes that would soon be Giovanni's new wing in his mansion. All of this was almost his new home.

He knew what it was even before he saw it. The workers that rushed by him were completely soaked and he could hear water rushing. He ran to the noise and found himself ankle deep in water.

"What the hell happened?" He yelled to the men.

"An unexpected water leak, sir!" Someone hollered.

"Damn it!"

"We're trying to fix it!"

Erik pushed the people in his way aside and made his way to the source. He couldn't identify where it was that it was coming from, even when he was standing before the rupture.

The water poured all around him, making it almost impossible to move around the small space the water was leaking from. It was impossible to breathe with all the water spraying him in the face but in the end the he and the workers managed to close the large fissure with a large monkey wrench.

"Fucking plumbing," one of the workers mumbled, turning to Erik, he said, "We've managed to hit a large underground water main."

Erik ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Jesus Christ." This meant that they were to be delayed more until they called a plumber to fix it, not to mention how much the plumber would cost, how long he would take…

He took a deep sigh. "Take a break guys, then we'll clear this out."

He left to the outside of the new, damaged wing and sat down in the sun, taking off his shirt. A hundred curses came to mind, this had not been his day. First with what happened with Christine, now this.

How could he explain this to Giovanni?

"Damn it all," he said softly.

"Good afternoon, Erik."

Erik inwardly groaned. As if his day couldn't get any worse.

Some would think that if an Italian goddess addressed them, they would consider it a blessing.

He thought it a curse.

"Hello, Luciana."

"I see that daddy's new wing is damaged," she said as she sat next to him. She took off her Gucci sunglasses and placed them on the top of her head. "He won't be happy about that."

Erik sighed. He knew that, and she didn't need to tell him. "Damn plumber didn't do his job right. I have to call him again and make him come down here." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is going to take forever."

He felt small hands at his shoulders. He would have politely pulled away but he was in fact enjoying that small massage Lucianna was giving him. "Come now, Erik," he could hear behind him. "Don't be so hard on yourself. You do the best you can and you go home with the satisfaction of a job well done." Small arms encircled around his neck from behind and she whispered in his ear, "I'll talk to daddy about this. Leave it up to me."

"It's fine, Lucianna," he said to the girl. "It's my responsibility, I will handle it."

Erik made a movement as if to get up, making Lucianna let go. As he stood, Lucianna did also. "I'm going to go talk to your father."

He began to leave but stopped when Lucianna called him back. "Wanna go for a couple of beers tonight? My treat."

Erik smiled slightly. He had to admit that going out with Lucianna would be a great distraction and it was no secret that she wanted something more from Erik than her father would allow. Tonight, he probably could indulge her, finally give in. God knew he needed the distraction.

He was a man after all, he couldn't help feeling that way.

Christine still lurked somewhere in his mind, he couldn't stop thinking about her, especially when he didn't know how she was or where she was.

Perhaps she never needed his help after all and she was just making fun of him. Humoring him.

No, it couldn't be that. He saw the ways her eyes lit with fascination when he played the piano. He could almost hear the passion in her voice. She wasn't faking.

"Lucianna-" he started but stopped. "Excuse me."

He reached into his ringing pocket and took out his cell phone. He placed the phone to his ear, after he looked at the caller ID. "Madame Giry, good afternoon."

"Oh Erik, my dear boy."

Erik frowned. "Madame Giry, what's wrong?"

Her usually cheerful voice and calm demeanor were absent. She sounded worried and out of breath. "It's Jessica."

Erik was instantly worried. "What happened to Christine?" He had forgotten that she didn't know that he knew Christine's true name not the name she had put so no one knew her real identity.

It seemed as if she didn't notice or care because she kept talking. "She's in trouble."

That was all he needed to hear. He began walking to where he kept his things. "What kind of trouble?"

"Deep trouble, Erik."

"The police?"

"Worse than the police, Erik." He could hear her sniffle. "It's Jo. He's a drug dealer, he knows her from when she was little. He's always been after her. He's the only person she is scared of."

"Where is she?"

"Her apartment, God help me Erik, I don't know where it is. I'm so scared!"

"I know where it is," Erik said, still walking, looking for Nadir wherever he may be. At least the thought he knew where it was. He only prayed that the apartment building he had gone to before with her to get her things was the one where she lived. It had to be.

"I will help her, Madame Giry."

"Erik," she sounded as if she had calmed down. "My daughter is with her."

Erik stopped. This was the first time that he had heard about her daughter coming from her directly. He had heard about her before but that was when he was eavesdropping on her conversation with Christine. He felt that circumstances being what they were, he wouldn't ask her about the girl.

"I can't call the police. When Jo gets out, he'll do anything to them. Please help them."

"Madame Giry, there is nothing you can ask that I could refuse."

Christine stood frozen against the wall. She couldn't move. Couldn't think. Just stare at the men before her. Raoul and Jo terrified her. Not so much Raoul, she could punch the smug look off his face but not Jo.

Jo wasn't afraid of her because he knew her since she was small. He knew her father better than she did. They were friends since before she was born. He was the one that made all the funeral arrangements. He had helped her.

That was why she had thought she owed him so much …

They had barged in more than an hour ago laughing and drunk (at least Raoul was), being loud and obnoxious. They were insulting Meg but Christine remained frozen against the wall, trying to make herself as small as she could.

"J-J-Jo," she could hear Meg plead. "I-I'm sorry, I don't have your m-money. I-If you could just please, _please_, give me a couple of days, I'll get it for you."

She heard Jo laugh, she could hear the cold venom in his words. "I gave you a certain time Meg. More than fair-"

"I-I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" Meg said, tears in her words. "I tried, I did-"

"Meg."

Meg stopped talking. Though Jo had said her voice low he said it with a commanding tone and that was enough to make any man stop what they were doing. Jo wasn't the most feared drug dealer in the city for nothing.

Jo wasn't exactly unattractive. He could have any woman he pleased, every knew he had enough to keep any woman attracted to him. It just so happened that the only woman he wanted was Christine. Why he wanted her, Christine didn't know. She could never predict Joseph Buquet's thoughts or moods. That was what made him dangerous. He could be nice to you one minute then the next minute he could beat you senseless and make you disappear.

"You have the money, Meg," Jo said confidently with a smile, approaching her. "I gave you more than reasonable time." He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "I never give people as much time as I gave you."

"Get away from her."

Had she said that? How had she managed to find the words?

"_Jessica_."

He hadn't said her true name but the thought of him actually acknowledging her made her freeze, a lump in her throat appear. Now he walked to her, making Christine uneasy. "I haven't seen you in a long time."

Christine swallowed the lump in her throat. "Give or take a year."

He smiled. "I'm honored that you remember our last encounter." He unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt and pulled the collar to his shoulder. She could see a line there, whiter than the tan skin around it. "It's healed nicely, don't you think?"

He laughed. "I see it every day and I remember that night. Do you know what I think?"

His hand quickly went for Christine's throat. She tried to avoid it by moving away from him but he was fast. As his hand went for her throat, he put his whole body into the action, crushing her to the wall behind her.

He pinned her against the wall, his body against her, his hands crushing her windpipe. The weight of his body wouldn't let her move and she clawed at the hands at her throat helplessly.

Jo continued his sentence. "How the _fuck_ I'm going to make that bitch pay!"

She heard Raoul laughing somewhere behind Jo.

She could see out of the corner of her eye Meg run to Jo, possibly to help her but then Raoul grabbed her by the waist and pushed her the other way.

"No!" Meg screamed. "Let go of me, you prick!"

"Stay away, Meg," Christine wheezed.

"Yes, Meg," Jo said in a teasing tone. "Stay away. This is between me and Jessica."

"Hey, boss," Raoul said eagerly. "What do you want me to do with this one?"

"Do whatever you want, I don't give a shit," Jo then looked at Christine, smiling. "This one owes me something."

"Take her jacket off!" Raoul said laughing loudly. "Let's see her face!"

Jo gave a cold smile and spoke so only she could hear him under Raoul's laughing. "Oh, yes, why don't we do that, Christine? He slowly let go of her making her cough uncontrollably, dropping to her knees on the floor. It felt good to have air in her lungs.

"I remember, you were once so very beautiful. You had blue eyes."

Christine felt her anger burn inside.

"I had been watching you for a long time, Christine."

Christine's hand balled up into a fist and before she could stop herself, she was throwing herself on Jo, knocking him to the ground.

"Christine, stop it!"

She ignored Meg's cries and began to punch Jo as hard as she could. Or at least she tried. Before she could land the first blow, Raoul had taken her by the shoulders, taking her hands, he put them behind her back.

She took the heel of her boot and stepped on Raoul's foot as hard as she could.

He screamed in pain and fell back when Christine turned and kneed him in the groin. As soon as he fell, she heard a heavy metal thud on the carpeted floor. Turning to Meg, she screamed, "Meg, run!"

Meg didn't have to be told twice, she leapt for the door and ran clear outside of her room. Christine followed suit but fell short. Just as she was about to run to the door, a hand grabbed her ankle, making her stumble forward, hitting her chin on the floor.

Pain shot through her, but she ignored it, kicking viciously at the hand at her ankle. She looked at the man grabbing her ankle. Jo's face was red, his eyes were burning with hate.

"Get back here, Christine!"

"Fuck you!" She kicked at his face but missed, but he didn't. He grabbed her other ankle and with great force, he pulled her to him. The carpet burned her back and she desperately looked around for anything to defend herself with.

"I'll finish what I started."

He threw his knee on her thigh with all his weight, making her cry out in pain. Once he was on top of her, he punched her face, making her senses explode in pain. She could hardly think from the pain.

"Does this remind you of anything, my dear Christine?" He asked as he pinned her hands beneath his at her sides.

"Get the fuck off of me!" She cried out, her breath leaving her. He was too heavy.

He placed his mouth on hers again and bit her lip, the coppery liquid filling her mouth. His hands tugged at her jacket and before she knew it the one thing that protected her from the world was discarded and Jo could see her face.

Tears filled her eyes and she couldn't bear to look at his disgusted face. She turned away, trying to place her hair across her marred skin without the use of her hands.

"God," he said his disgusted tone apparent. "You're hideous."

Christine bit back a sob but used her remaining strength to spit in his face.

This time he slapped her, making her gasp in pain. Suddenly she felt the weight of the man being lifted off her. She crawled away from where she had been and looked at where Jo was presently being pulled to. A man, not much larger than Jo himself was proceeding to kick and punch Jo against a wall.

Christine frowned, the only other person in the room had been Raoul and he had always been afraid of Jo. Raoul was much smaller than Jo, not like this man. Raoul was weak, this man was strong, which was apparent in the way he was leaving Jo almost unconscious.

Christine looked around for her jacket and when she found it, she put it on, automatically placing the hoody on her head. Abruptly, she heard an all too familiar click. Christine turned sharply and saw that the man was pointing a gun at Jo on the floor.

"You'd defend that whore?" Jo said, spitting blood on the ground.

"Yes, I would."

Christine almost melted at the sound of his voice and she felt the tears she had been holding back flood to her eyes.

He did care about her. Even after everything she had done. He was willing to defend a perfect stranger. She felt her heart flood, and a new sense of respect grow for her angel. He saved her because he believed in her.

"Call her that again and you will regret it," Erik said in a cold voice. "Christine."

She looked up when he called her. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, not trusting her voice lest it broke in the middle of the sentence. When he wouldn't look at her, she said, softly, "Yes."

He didn't look up. "Let's go." He walked away from Jo, facing him the entire time, the gun pointed at him. When he was at the door, he took Christine's hand and they left.

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